


Warworld Romance

by afacadeoffeelings



Category: Transformers: MTMTE
Genre: M/M, NSFW, Self servicing, Sticky, Sticky Sex, heat cycle, interfacting, multiple overloads, tarnsaurus - Freeform, valveplug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 14:40:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6380317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afacadeoffeelings/pseuds/afacadeoffeelings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deathsaurus’s heat cycle activates due to his relationship and proximity of a certain, masked mech. And it’s only that mech that can satiate said cycle and wants for the warworld commander.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warworld Romance

If ever there were a time that Deathsaurus was grateful for the privacy of his own quarters, now was one of those times. Frame heated to the point he could have sworn he would singe the padding of his berth, ventilation systems allowing only short pants, and aft in the air as the winged mech worked a spike toy in and out of his dripping valve with one hand and used the digits of his other to roll and rub at his anterior node; yes, the warworld commander was quite grateful for the privacy.

With a whine that turned into a groan as he felt his overload charges notch up for a _third_ time to a peak, Deathsaurus beat his wings in a mix of frustration and anticipation of the growing release. The padding beneath him was fluid-soaked, and he’d be better off just tossing it out rather than trying to explain the embarrassment of what happened afterwards.

While Deathsaurus had no explanation for what had come over him to elicit such a carnal and insatiable drive, he did know who always sprang to the forefront of his thoughts when he was self-servicing himself to try and take the edge off of said drive.

Those same hands that gripped his hips to the point that the armor creaked, enough strength that each thrust briefly lifted Deathsaurus off the berth, and that voice… Oh, that voice. That voice that would slip past a scarred smile that was barely visible from behind their mask. That voice that would make Deathsaurus’s spark pulse faster and ignite the heat that seemed to be perpetually radiating from underneath his armor.

“Hnh! Tarn!” Deathsaurus gasped, giving into his delightful fantasy as he squeezed his optics shut and burying his face against the berth padding as he felt his overload make its last climb.

Pressing the toy deep into his valve as it began to rhythmically tense with his climax, Deathsaurus stifled a low, guttural cry and continued to work his digit tips across his firm anterior node, even as his hand trembled with the massive flood of energy and pleasantly dizzying swirl of erotic release. Fresh pulses of heated, slick, translucent blue lubricant spilled down onto Deathsaurus’s hand and dripped from his wrist, while rivulets of the viscous fluid slipped down the beastformer’s trembling thighs.

Bucking in the throes of his overload, Deathsaurus bit down on the plush padding, oral fluid on his lips as he ventilated hard, letting his thoughts continue to drive his overload. The heat in his frame continued to swirl underneath his plating, and a contented wince flashed across the winged mech’s features as his valve gave a pronounced clench around the toy.

With a sharp gasp, feeling the last of his overload charges subside, Deathsaurus reluctantly let his hands leave from between his legs so that he could brace himself against the berth. His ventilation systems raced to try and cool the still sweltering heat that still resided underneath the beastformer’s armor, and Deathsaurus reluctantly opened his optics. The action dispelled the brief, but incredibly pleasing, idea that it was Tarn’s spike inside him and that the tankformer had been the one to overload in Deathsaurus’s now aching valve.

Finally, as his systems began to return to normal function, the warworld commander’s vision focused and he looked down at the berth padding. It was covered with fresh lubricant and transfluid, and by now was completely unusable for anything save fire fuel. ...if that.

And yet, that damnable craving still remained within Deathsaurus. It was like some sort of gnawing tensity at the lower half of his midsection that constantly stoked the warmth which radiated from the winged mech’s frame. While both symptoms had come on gradually over the span of about a week, they were now in full force and it took a considerable amount of concentration for Deathsaurus to get through his daily tasks aboard the warworld.

Ventilating a long, frustrated sigh, as he could still feel that carnal urge within him, Deathsaurus shoved himself off the berth and made for the washracks that were attached to his personal quarters. They were one of the few things that he was extremely grateful for Tarn having talked him into getting, particularly now with the state that Deathsaurus found himself in.

At least cold water was something that was in massive quantities aboard the warworld…

* * *

 Sitting at his desk, Deathsaurus was going over a few resource reports and double-checking inventory lists. Under normal circumstances, the beastformer would have found more entertainment from gargling battery acid than going over resource reports, but, as was the usual for the past week, the winged mech found himself desperate to focus on something...other than the uncomfortable ache between his thighs.

He had been making surprising progress through the majority of them, but he soon found himself struggling to keep his attention on the report at hand. Everything was written plainly and clearly, and while Deathsaurus could read the words well enough, it was making absolutely no sense to the winged mech. Instead, there was something else that was making all the sense in the world to him. ...or rather, scent.

It was difficult to describe, as the winged mech had never really dealt with something like this. Sure, he had used his sense of smell when in his beastform, but this was one of the very rare times that his sense of smell picked up on something so pronounced when in this mode. Even so, there was a part of Deathsaurus that actually enjoyed the sensation; enjoyed the warmth that it drew up in his frame. Which could only mean…

“Oh…,” Deathsaurus commented, half-groaning the word.

There was a sharp knock at the door, and before the mech on the other side could even speak, Deathsaurus called out to them.

“Come in, Tarn.”

After a moment of pause, the door slid open and it was indeed Tarn, albeit looking a little dubious about the fact that Deathsaurus had known it was him before there’d been any chance for Tarn to identify himself.

The presence of the imposing and yet damnably alluring DJD leader caused the heat that had been lying somewhat dormant in Deathsaurus to ignite. A flood of heat and tensity cascaded through the winged mech’s frame, and it was enough that Deathsaurus sat up a bit straighter. He clenched his thighs together, trying to make the action appear as nonchalant as possible, even though the pressure on his interface panel had notched up exponentially.

“Did you install a camera system without my knowledge, Deathsaurus?” Tarn teased.

While the sing-song nature of Tarn’s voice did nothing to help alleviate the tensity that was growing against Deathsaurus’s interface panel, the winged mech managed to keep his composure enough to give Tarn a fanged grin. He didn’t dare rise from his seat, as it would give away the fact that he was struggling to keep his wits about him, but Deathsaurus did at least manage to pull off the ‘commander in charge’ appearance while seated at his desk.

At least, he really hoped he did…

“Hm, perhaps I’ve installed cameras elsewhere, too,” the winged mech quipped back.

“Is that so? I didn’t know you enjoyed _watching_ as well as participating,” Tarn answered without skipping a beat. He and Deathsaurus had interfaced multiple times, and yet, each time, the beastformer managed to bring some new sort of idea to the berth. The tankformer hadn’t given Deathsaurus enough credit in being a creative sort.

“Just full of surprises, aren’t I?” Deathsaurus hoped his voice didn’t sound as tense as he felt.

“Dare I ask if you’re proposing one now?” The tankformer leaned forward, bracing himself on the edge of the desk, crimson optics glowing faintly.

Oh, how Deathsaurus wished he was. In fact, who was to say he wasn’t? The heat, tensity, and growing feeling of _want_ between his thighs and in his midsection practically demanded that Deathsaurus grab Tarn, wrap his legs around the tankformer’s hips while simultaneously sliding away his interface panel, and then implore Tarn to frag him until all manner of sense had left Deathsaurus.

That same demand was quickly followed by the stipulation that Tarn would overload inside Deathsaurus, filling the warworld commander with that rush of hot, slick transfluid which-

“Deathsaurus?”

The firmer tone in Tarn’s voice snapped the winged mech out of his daydream, and he looked up at Tarn in a mix of surprise and embarrassment. Judging by the amused and inquisitive look on Tarn’s features, Deathsaurus had managed to go off into his carnal daydream for longer than it had seemed in the beastformer’s thoughts.

“Yes?” Deathsaurus replied in nonchalance.

“Already coming up with scenarios for us?” Tarn asked with a smirk from behind his mask.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” the winged mech replied primly, even though there was a very loud voice in his thoughts saying, ‘Yes’.

“Well, as you know, business before pleasure. I had actually come to tell you that a transmission was intercepted. At your earliest convenience, I do want to review it with you.”

“Of course, of course. Once done here, I will meet you in the communications room.” How Deathsaurus intended to stay standing in the room with Tarn that close was beyond the beastformer, but he would have to manage.

“No need to rush,” Tarn assured, standing up. “It’s nothing urgent, but it is something I wanted to tell you directly.”

“Much appreciated.”

With a quick nod, Tarn turned to exit the room, but when he got to the door, he paused and glanced over his shoulder at Deathsaurus. He hadn’t missed the fact that the beastformer had been squirming in their seat during the entire conversation, and the masked mech derived a certain delight knowing that he could make Deathsaurus writhe without even touching them.

“And before I go...do keep mind of those scenarios you came up with,” Tarn advised. “You never know when they may be useful.”

The look of muted outrage was quickly overshadowed by the interest that Deathsaurus showed when he perked up in his seat, and Tarn chuckled before leaving the room. Once the door slid shut, Deathsaurus ventilated a heavy sigh and slumped back in his chair, finally letting his thighs relax.

At the moment he did, the winged mech felt an odd, slick, and _wet_ sensation along his inner thighs and at his interface panel. Shifting in his seat, Deathsaurus paused for a brief moment, then let one of his hands carefully slip down between his legs. Feeling warm lubricant smeared along his thighs and pearling up from the edges of his interface panel, the warworld commander made a short grunt. And when his digit tips accidentally brushed against his interface panel, that grunt became a short cry.

His interface panel was almost as hypersensitive as his valve had been, and the heat rising from it was both frustrating and incredibly tempting to indulge. Groaning loudly, Deathsaurus leaned forward and let his forehelm thunk rather unceremoniously on his desk. The fact that it was the snout of his beastform would have made the action all that more humorous, had there been any humor to be found in the entire situation.

What in the name of the Unmaker was wrong with him?

* * *

 After taking an embarrassingly long time to get cleaned up and regain his composure, Deathsaurus made his way to the medbay. There was no way he could continue on like this and run the warworld, especially with Tarn in such close proximity, without losing every last bit of his sanity. ...that or he’d need to simply buy out the entire supply of berth bedding. Maybe he could convince a few on his warworld to buy stock in it and possibly regain the finances lost.

Upon entering the medbay, Deathsaurus immediately realized that he had made a grave error in judgment by not checking first to see _who_ was in the medbay. He had simply expected one of his own medics to be the on-call doctor, but, as luck would have it, the medic available was none other than the medic for the DJD. Nickel.

By the time this had all registered in the beastformer’s brain module, Nickel had already turned and and quickly wheeled over to Deathsaurus. She gave him a quick once over and then tilted her helm.

“Well? You going to say something or were you shopping for manicure tools?” the rather snippy medic inquired, hands on her hips.

The sarcastic quip was enough to bring Deathsaurus out of his initial silence, and he gave Nickel a quick, exasperated look before speaking.

“I’m not entirely sure what’s wrong with me,” the winged mech started, trying to speak as clearly and quickly as possible to avoid any more sarcastic comments from the medic. “For the past week or so, it’s like my frame has been feverish. There’s also a lot of, er, tensity...in my midsection. It’s been nearly impossible to get any sort of fitful rest-”

Listening, Nickel had already gone over to a tray and snatched up a scanner. As Deathsaurus finished listing off his symptoms, or rather, the ones he appeared to be comfortable enough with admitting, the medic worked to calibrate the scanner. She was almost positive she already knew what was going on, judging by the way that Deathsaurus was standing and behaving. The scanner, however, would at least provide results that she could show the winged mech, should he choose to try and argue them.

“-furthermore, I can’t seem to figure out why this happened in the first place, I-”

“You’re in heat,” Nickel interrupted flatly, looking at the results.

Stopping mid-syllable, optics going wide, Deathsaurus looked down at the medic, who was giving him an impatient look and holding the scanner up. Granted, the readouts didn’t make near as much sense to Deathsaurus as they would to Nickel, but the prognosis was still more than enough to render the beastformer speechless for a long moment.

“I’m...I’m what?” Deathsaurus stammered, his vocalizer finally working.

“Your heat cycle has activated,” Nickel repeated. “Guessing it’s been in full swing for a couple of days now. I’ll bet that’s been uncomfortable.”

“You have no idea,” the warworld commander grumbled. He ventilated a long, frustrated sigh, then continued. “Is there anything I can do?”

Though she didn’t verbally answer, the look that Nickel gave Deathsaurus was more than response enough. Realization hit and Deathsaurus quickly shook his head, waving one hand dismissively.

“Other than the obvious!”

“Well, you can-”

Catching the scent of a very familiar mech, one that made his knees threaten to buckle, Deathsaurus hid his face in the palm of his hand and groaned. Obviously irritated at being interrupted, Nickel started to say something, but stopped when she saw Tarn appear in the doorway of the medbay.

“Is everything alright?” the DJD leader inquired, obviously curious as to why Deathsaurus was seeking medical advice.

“He’s fine,” Nickel stated quickly, not bothering to hide the lingering frustration she had that Tarn and Deathsaurus had gotten so close in such a short span of time. “He’s just in heat.”

Both Tarn and Deathsaurus froze, and at that moment, Deathsaurus would have rather been anywhere else than the medbay. He would have rather been blinded, both hands tied behind his back, and told he had to fight Overlord and Megatron at the same time with a stick than to have been standing in that medbay.

“He’s...in heat?” Tarn repeated slowly, as though he had misheard Nickel the first time.

“Yes, in heat. His heat cycle has been active for about a week now,” the medic replied, going over the scanner results. “Been full swing for a few days, it looks like, and probably will be for-”

By this point, Deathsaurus had already pivoted and made to escape the medbay. He wasn’t about to stand there and see Tarn’s reaction, much less hear it.

The winged mech had made it out of the medbay and was a few paces away when he realized that someone was fast gaining on him. Deathsaurus barely had time to turn around and he found himself face-to-face with the DJD leader. Under any other circumstances, the situation may have been surprising, but now, it only served to earn a low whine from the beastformer.

“Over here,” Tarn ordered, guiding Deathsaurus into a nearby, fortunately empty, meeting room.

Between the fact that he had been so enraptured with the glow of Tarn’s optics  and the feel of the tankformer’s hand on him, Deathsaurus put up no resistance. He was only indignant when he realized that he had been ordered around on his own warworld and he favored Tarn with an irritated glare.

“I trust you have a reason for this,” he hissed, trying desperately to ignore the flares of heat and tension against his interface panel.

Pausing to ensure the door was locked behind them, Tarn turned to look at Deathsaurus, and though there was the mask, there was also no mistaking the supreme smile on the DJD leader’s features. He walked up to Deathsaurus until they were only a breath apart, and it took everything the warworld commander had not to-

“Go on,” Tarn coaxed. “...why deny yourself?”

Even though it was humiliating to display such a lack of self-control, Deathsaurus didn’t care. He roughly grabbed the sides of Tarn’s helm and began to leave a series of biting kisses along the cables of Tarn’s neck. The beastformer’s serpentine glossa slipped out and over the marks that his fangs had left, while Deathsaurus’s hands explored across Tarn’s frame. The actions garnered an appreciative purr from the DJD leader, and he gripped Deathsaurus’s aft firmly, pressing his own interface panel against the winged mech’s.

A low, rumbling groan hummed from Deathsaurus’s chassis as he let Tarn back him towards the large table in the middle of the room. It was taking absolutely everything that the winged mech had to keep his interface panel closed, to the point it almost hurt, but right now the pain was secondary to the rush of want that was racing through him.

Not resisting when Tarn wordlessly guided him to sit on the edge of the table, Deathsaurus continued to lavish Tarn with fervent kisses. It only took a tap of Tarn’s index and middle digits to the beastformer’s inner thigh to get Deathsaurus to spread his legs, and the moment he felt Tarn’s hand on his interface panel, the warworld commander had to immediately bury his face against the side of Tarn’s neck to muffle the loud, gasped cry that tore from him.

“My, my,” Tarn purred, his voice smoother than the most refined elixirs available. “I had no idea you were in such dire needs, Deathsaurus. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tarn… Tarn, please,” Deathsaurus whispered hoarsely against the singer’s neck. He couldn’t help himself and reflexively rutted his interface panel against Tarn’s, which drew up fresh lubricant along the seams. “I-I…”

“Shh,” Tarn hushed, continuing to massage at Deathsaurus’s interface panel once he had enough room. His digit tips ran along the seams, and the DJD leader made a pleased ‘hm’ upon discovering the lubricant. “Quite wet already, are we?”

All Deathsaurus could do was nod and pant, fighting to keep his panel closed, since he knew that if it opened, there’d be a much bigger mess to clean up. When he heard Tarn’s chuckle, there was the brief moment of concern that Tarn had simply done this to be a cruel tease, but then…

“Well, I mustn’t be rude and leave you in such a state,” Tarn murmured. “Shall we agree to meet in your quarters later tonight? I should be able to tend to your...most demanding needs.”

The blistering kiss that Deathsaurus placed on the mouth slit of Tarn’s mask was more than enough answer.

* * *

 Tarn was late.

Of course he was. One of the few times that Deathsaurus felt that a want had become a _need_ , Tarn saw it fit to keep the warworld commander anticipating his arrival more so than before. Under any other circumstances, Deathsaurus may have found the approach coy but alluring. Now, though, it only served to help the warworld commander entertain ideas of pouncing on the tankformer the moment they came through the door.

So, when there was a knock at the door and it slid away to reveal the DJD leader standing there, Deathsaurus couldn’t help but step towards the other. His clawed digits grazed across Tarn’s armor as the beastformer flashed a fanged, undeniably excited grin that had just a hint of demanding.

“Took you long enough,” Deathsaurus commented as the door slid shut behind Tarn, though his grin didn’t falter. “Thought you were going to leave me to my own devices.”

The DJD leader’s crimson gaze studied the winged mech as they spoke, and there was no missing the half-smirk that tugged at one corner of Tarn’s lips. He made a chuckled hum, his Voice lilting across Deathsaurus’s spark teasingly, as he gripped the beastformer’s hip and tugged him close. There was no missing the heat that was radiating from Deathsaurus’s frame, and Tarn quirked a helm ridge when he felt the winged mech press firmly up against him.

“Such impatience..,” Tarn tsked, even though his smirk was still obvious.

“Yes, I am impatient. I have been impatient for the past week,” Deathsaurus ventilated, gaze locked with Tarn’s. “Now frag me already.”

For a brief moment, it looked as though Tarn was going to continue to tease Deathsaurus verbally, and the beastformer gave an audible whine of want.

At least...he did for as long as it took Tarn’s free hand to press against his interface panel and give it a firm, indulgent massage. The action made Deathsaurus gasp sharply and he buried his face against Tarn’s neck, wings trembling in delighted appreciation. Once again, his glossa traced across the outlines of the masked mech’s neck cables, his fangs grazing and occasionally scratching their flexible surface. Inbetween each gesture, Deathsaurus would whisper Tarn’s designation as he happily relented and let his interface panel slide away.

“Much better,” Tarn stated. He had tilted his helm to the side obligingly, feeling quivers of stimulation to his overload charges each time Deathsaurus’s serpentine glossa traced across his neck. Letting his index and middle digit tips press against Deathsaurus’s anterior node, surprised at how much lubricant had already welled up from the other’s valve, Tarn made another low hum as he rubbed a few, firm circles against the node. “My, my… A wet mess, already?”

Once again, his frame felt as though it were exposed to open flame, and Deathsaurus could only give a fervent nod. He gripped Tarn’s sides, leaving the first of many to come scratches, and pulled the tankformer down with him. The berth was too far away, and as far as Deathsaurus was concerned, would require too much consideration for spacing. Right now, all he wanted was Tarn...and to have Tarn overload in him. Repeatedly.

The masked mech didn’t resist, and the moment the opportunity presented itself, he roughly pinned Deathsaurus against the floor. Relishing the sharp groan from the beastformer that quickly turned into a contented purr, Tarn let his digits delve into Deathsaurus’s valve. Heated lubricant with a noticeable stimulant that Tarn had never encountered before welled up around his digits, sending ripples of warmth and tensity with it.

“Tarn, please…!” Deathsaurus panted as he arched his back in response. His clawed digits left new scratchmarks across the tankformer’s treads, and the winged mech made a loud whine. “I can’t wait any longer. Please…”

Between the promise of an intimate encounter like no other and the undeniable allure of the winged mech that had long since won his spark, Tarn withdrew his digits and gripped Deathsaurus’s thighs. Guiding the other to wrap their legs around his waist as his interface panel slid away, spike pressurizing smoothly, Tarn aligned himself so that the tip of his spike rested just within the lubricant slick folds of Deathsaurus’s valve. Chuckling when he felt the other’s claws dig into his armor, Tarn studied his lover for a moment, simply relishing the moment...before driving hard into Deathsaurus, burying his spike all the way to the hilt.

An unbidden cry tore itself from Deathsaurus’s vocalizer, and his optics shuttered as his valve walls flexed to accommodate the firm, but most welcome, length that had spread them so suddenly. A series of previously dormant protocols immediately activated, and in the midst of the pleasurable pain that went through his heated frame in waves, Deathsaurus lifted his hips in a slow, deliberate rut against Tarn. Transfluid dripped from his own spike, but in this moment, all the beastformer could focus on was the wonderful sensation of Tarn’s spike within him.

To his credit, Tarn needed no coaxing in what to do, and when Deathsaurus rutted against him, he used the new angle to give another, pronounced thrust. Whether it was the angle or the fact that Deathsaurus’s valve walls were already so tense around him, Tarn felt the tip of his spike rub against a row of sensors. To that, the response was immediate, with Deathsaurus groaning again and another gush of lubricant swirling around Tarn’s spike. Grinning, the masked mech held Deathsaurus’s hips fast so as to keep the angle, and repeated his thrusts; each time ensuring that the tip of his spike found those sensors.

Beneath the tankformer, Deathsaurus found himself gasping and biting down on his lower lip reflexively as his overload charges notched rapidly as the sensors in his valve were repeatedly tripped. He’d never overloaded this fast, and the winged mech had no desire to see this encounter end so soon. However, there was an unmistakable desire in his midsection that told him this was not going to be his only overload throughout this.

With that in mind, Deathsaurus gave in and let his overload charges continue to ramp up at a pace that his gasps and groans could keep up with. He barely managed to cry out Tarn’s name before his first overload snapped free, his valve walls clenching tightly around Tarn’s spike as they massaged at the length. Hot lubricant squelched as the masked mech increased the pace of his thrusts, and in the midst of his senses being lost to the carnal release, Deathsaurus was vaguely aware of the hot, sticky mess of transfluid that had spattered across him.

As soon as it had struck, the first overload subsided, and Deathsaurus collapsed against the floor, his ventilation system racing and overload charges demanding another release.

“My, my,” Tarn purred, his own ventilation quick, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you overload so quickly. Do you need a moment? ...or shall I continue?”

His glossa ran along his lips and Deathsaurus nodded, knowing that it wasn’t exactly a clear answer. However, he had another idea, one that he had entertained many evenings by himself, and, with an obvious groan of reluctance, Deathsaurus moved so that Tarn’s spike slid out of his now swollen valve.

Though he noticed Tarn’s slight confusion, Deathsaurus simply gave his lover a promising grin as he turned away from the tankformer so that he could be on his elbows and knees. Aft lifted so as to present his valve, which dripped lubricant and traces of Tarn’s transfluid, Deathsaurus looked over his shoulder and gave Tarn an inviting grin.

“By all means, continue,” the warworld commander implored, fangs flashing past his heady grin. “Frag me until I can’t stand, and lose every last drop of your overload in me, Tarn.”

Making a pleased ‘hmn’ as he rose to his knees and positioned himself once again, Tarn looked over the winged mech as the tip of his spike once again found Deathsaurus’s valve entrance. Not even trying to stifle the hiss of both surprise and carnal contentment as he pressed into the beastformer’s inviting valve, Tarn gripped the mech’s hips firmly as he felt the hot, mesh walls envelope his spike again. There was a new sensation, one that the masked mech hadn’t ever encountered during his previous intimate encounters with Deathsaurus. It felt as though there were evenly spaced...well, rings within Deathsaurus’s valve, each of them giving tantalizing squeezes around the thick shaft of Tarn’s spike.

“Such a needy beastformer,” Tarn chuckled, his voice deliciously smooth. “A needy, wet, and tight beastformer, hm?”

“Yes. Yes…!” Deathsaurus cried, rocking slowly so as to both simulate the sensation of Tarn working in and out of his valve, and to coax Tarn to resume their thrusts. “Take me, already, Tarn! Frag me until I can’t stand and push every last drop of your overload in me!”

Even as the winged mech had begun their pleas, Tarn had started a rough, but fervent and undeniably appeasing pace. Snarling when he felt a pulse of transfluid escape his spike, Tarn continued his thrusts, causing spurts of lubricant to spatter across the base of his spike and drip down onto the already fluid flecked floor. His grip on Deathsaurus’s hips tightened reflexively, but Tarn maintained both the angle and pace.

Gasping and working to keep his aft lifted up as his systems began to notch back up with his impending overload, Deathsaurus clawed at the floor. He licked his lips in between pants, whining as he felt the familiar ache in his midsection begin to grow. It wasn’t something that the winged mech had ever felt before, and his wings flared up as his valve gave a quick, but pronounced, preemptive cinch as his second overload began to ratchet up to its climax.

Though he tried to gasp out Tarn’s name, Deathsaurus’s overload caught him by surprise so that the cry was promptly turned into a delighted snarl. Clawed digits scraping across the floor as Deathsaurus worked to keep his trembling, heated frame pressed against Tarn. He squeezed his optics shut as the massive rush of energy release sent his systems again into overdrive, and his valve once more went rhythmically taut around Tarn’s spike as Deathsaurus felt the pleasurable sensation of Tarn’s transfluid filling him.

The beastformer’s overload sent the heated mixture of lubricant and transfluid squirting from his valve and against the base of Tarn’s spike, but neither of them cared. Instead, it only seemed to serve as the ignition point for Tarn’s overload, as the masked mech made a guttural snarl as his thrusts began to slow but grew more intense. He gritted his dentae for a brief moment, hissing out the warworld commander’s name before his overload finally peaked.

Relinquishing to the sudden deluge of erotic ecstasy, Tarn shuttered off his optics, managing to withdraw and thrust hard back into Deathsaurus once at the very beginning of his overload. He then remained pressed deep into the winged mech, throbs of transfluid mingling with the welling of lubricant that occurred with each erotically appeasing clench of Deathsaurus’s valve. Digit tips dug in against the winged mech’s armor as Tarn rode out his overload, frame shuddering from the energy output.

At the moment his overload subsided, Deathsaurus collapsed against the floor, ventilating hard and entire frame aching and yet, there was still the desire for just one more overload. ...from the both of them.

Feeling Tarn more or less collapse against him, Deathsaurus grinned as he worked to get his senses about him enough to coax Tarn into continuing for one more overload. The tankformer was gasping his name and giving the tips of his wings light, reassuring strokes, and the winged mech couldn’t help but feel appreciative of the attentions he was being given. Even so, there was something more that Deathsaurus was wanting from this moment.

“One more, Tarn?” he implored, aft giving a teasing wiggle. “...just one more time that I can feel you overload in me, feel you claim me as your own.”

Though there was the overlay of contented exhaustion attempting to rest on Tarn, at the sound of Deathsaurus’s most enticing invitation, the masked mech quickly pushed it aside. He favored the winged mech with an entertained grin, a hand tracing down from the tip of Deathsaurus’s wing to rest on the beastformer’s aft before giving their hip a tug.

“I don’t see how I could decline such an offer,” Tarn chuckled, his tone low and heady as he repositioned himself.

A flare of excitement sparked in Deathsaurus when he felt the tip of Tarn’s spike brush against the folds of his valve, and a pleased purr thrummed from the beastformer as he lifted his aft once again to be as accommodating as possible. The ache in his midsection seemed to slide and give way to something...else. It felt as though something within him had opened, and the moment he felt Tarn’s spike fill his valve again, a very base want-no, _need_ to have Tarn overload in him, coiled to life within Deathsaurus.

“Tarn,” the winged mech groaned, digit tips clutching at the floor as the masked mech set a familiar pace.

At the feeling of the tight, lubricant drenched, mesh walls encompassing his hard spike, and the sound of Deathsaurus moaning his name, Tarn couldn’t help but chuckle. He could already feel the new, but definitely welcome, taut ‘circles’ around his spike as they rubbed firmly against the plating of his spike, providing far stronger stimulation to his overload charges.

“You truly want this, don’t you?” Tarn teased, his glossa running across his scarred lips.

“Yes...yes…!”

Not one to be nothing more than a tease, Tarn began to notch up both the pace and insistence of his thrusts, unable to help the grin that tugged at one corner of his mouth when he heard Deathsaurus’s excited cries and gasps. Lubricant and transfluid pearled up around the entrance of Deathsaurus’s valve, giving hot, thick squelches with each of Tarn’s thrusts, further feeding the DJD leader’s rapidly heating up overload charges.

Entire frame bucking with each thrust, Deathsaurus writhed and made his satisfaction with Tarn’s ministrations quite audible. Senses swam with the growing tensity of his overload charges and desire in his core, and the beastformer reflexively spread his wings, blades gleaming in the motion. At the feeling of Tarn’s hands gripping the main struts, Deathsaurus gave a fanged grin and short, but excited, laugh as he arched his back.

The position gave Tarn just enough of an angle that his thrusts began to hit Deathsaurus’s interior node, and the beastformer’s erotic cries leapt in volume and pleading. They served to spur Tarn on, his own, rough pants of effort and growing overload charge mingling with Deathsaurus’s. His grip on the main struts of Deathsaurus’s wings began to tremble, but Tarn’s voracious grin didn’t falter in the least.

“Enjoying yourself, Deathsaurus?” Tarn gasped, his grin practically audible.

“Yes! Frag it all, yes!”

Reaffirming his grip, Tarn then doubled his efforts, eager to satiate both of their overloads. The wet mess of pale blue lubricant that gleamed with opalescent transfluid ran down Tarn’s thighs in streamlets, and the same, slick mix of fluids was smeared across Deathsaurus’s aft and thighs. It provided the most carnally stimulating sensation that rippled through Tarn’s spike and directly to his overload charges, and the DJD leader soon found himself biting down on his bottom lip to let his overload build up as much as it possibly could.

Deathsaurus, however, found that such reservations were beyond his control, and his debauched valve continued to tense around Tarn’s spike, as though attempting to keep it buried within the beastformer. Making a whined moan, Deathsaurus felt his frame begin to tremble with the intensity of an overload he’d never experienced before.

“Tarn-Tarn!” the winged mech cried, optics wide as he clawed at the floor and instinctively tried to beat his wings.

He managed to call Tarn’s name one more time, practically howling it, before Deathsaurus felt his overload charges snap free with a force that made him shutter his optics tightly and let loose an ecstatic roar. His valve walls immediately clenched around Tarn’s spike, the mesh walls firmly massaging against the shaft to coax another overload from the masked mech. And at the feeling of the first pulse of pre-transfluid into his valve and now opened gestation chamber, the calipers within Deathsaurus’s valve reflexively locked around the plating of Tarn’s spike; ensuring that Tarn would remain within Deathsaurus throughout both their overloads.

At the feeling of the calipers cinching around his spike, Tarn attempted to withdraw out of reflex, but found that such an action was impossible. Iit soon went from impossible to utterly undesirable, as the calipers began to massage at Tarn’s spike in rhythm with Deathsaurus’s valve walls. It was an erotic thrill unlike any that Tarn had felt, and not only did it make his overload peak, but it did so with enough intensity to cause the massive mech to make a guttural cry as transfluid throbbed in excess from his spike.

Grip on the struts trembling as hard as his frame, Tarn made a series of snarled gasps as he reflexively shuddered in the midst of such a massive energy output. Deathsaurus’s lubricant gushed up around the base of his spike, while the winged mech’s pleasured cries filled his audials. It took everything Tarn had to maintain his hold on the writhing beastformer before him, and the DJD leader rode through the throes of his incredible overload with a shivering, yet unrelenting, hold.

Finally, as the last wave of his overload subsided, Deathsaurus collapsed against the ground, ventilating hard as he moaned in exhausted contentment. There was a satisfyingly warm and full feeling in his lower midsection, and the beastformer reached up with a shaky hand to clasp against the armor.

With a groan as his own overload ended, the last reserves of his transfluid now within Deathsaurus, Tarn stroked at the slightly bruised struts he had held on to with trembling digits. He felt the tensity around his spike slowly ease, and after a few moments, Tarn carefully withdrew from Deathsaurus. Noting the whine that the winged mech made, Tarn reassuringly stroked at Deathsaurus’s wings and back while humming as smoothly as his worked vocalizer would allow.

“Tarn...oh, Tarn,” Deathsaurus whispered hoarsely, still clutching at his lower midsection.

“Easy, Deathsaurus, easy...,” Tarn replied, continuing to assure his lover.

* * *

Once they had both regained enough strength to do so, both Tarn and Deathsaurus had taken to the berth to recuperate. The plush bedding cradled both their exhausted frames, and the DJD leader took care to hold the sleeping Deathsaurus to him. The winged mech had almost immediately fallen into recharge once he had relaxed into Tarn’s embrace, even though his hand remained on his lower midsection. Using one hand, Tarn caressed at Deathsaurus’s face, while clasping his hand atop Deathsaurus’s that was resting on their midsection.


End file.
